
'Computer Vision Syndrome': A Poem by Victoria Iacchetta

COMPUTER VISION SYNDROME
I like to isolate your heart from your logic, so that
I can convince your heart to take me to Friendly’s.
We can share a caramel cone sundae and cheese
fries. Then, after we leave, we can sit in my car
and talk about what we want to do with our lives,
when we’re older and not just 23. Your logic will
discuss its monetary interests: grow rich, own the
world, retire young, travel. In that order. But, my heart
and logic are conjoined at the aortic valve, and I’ve
decided that I want make sure that I remember the
pendant of Arwen, and how it looks pretty cool as the
handle of a dagger. I’ve made no plans for tomorrow,
so I could go to work and make $28.00 an hour, but
money won’t matter when I’m dead, and my body
should decompose within 12 years, as long as it’s buried
in the dirt, rather than kept in a velvet-lined coffin. Why
not spend the money I made yesterday on another tattoo?
Money stops mattering when a heart stops beating, but
tattoos will matter for at least twelve years after that, and
besides, I’d really like to share a caramel cone sundae and
cheese fries with you before this is all over.
Victoria Iacchetta is a decently young Puerto-Rican & Italian-American woman living in Buffalo, NY. Here, she mostly writes from a place of passion. Her poem, "American Girl Doll", was published in Ghost City Press's June 2019 Issue. Other works have been previously published in Peach Mag and Bottlecap Press.